


Let Me Die in This Old Uniform

by CotyCat82



Category: Agent Carter - Fandom, Captain America (Movies), MCU
Genre: Dystopia, F/M, Forced Marriage, mentions of but no descriptions of sexual violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-03-08 10:19:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13456188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CotyCat82/pseuds/CotyCat82
Summary: Desperate to create an army of super soldiers, Hydra begins a breeding program in which they systematically mate desirable allied soldiers and personnel with their own. When Peggy Carter is captured, she is given as a “bride” to the traitorous Steve Rogers.





	1. Capture

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this story comes from my viewing of the Handmaid’s Tale and a recent conversation in which I had to explain how eugenics focused America was pre-WW2.
> 
> The title is from a Benedict Arnold quote: "Let me die in this old uniform in which I fought my battles. May God forgive me for ever having put on another."

Peggy had not met Steve Rogers during the Project Rebirth candidate trails. She should have, but she did not. She was called back to Europe before they took place because in her spare time she had been dabbling at Hydra’s newest code and cracked it. The SSR wanted her in field, so she’d be able to quickly translate commandeered intelligence. She’d personally been responsible for locating and destroying seven Hydra bases by the time Doctor Erskine had been killed.  
  
The news of his death had been devastating. Peggy thought well of and generally liked the man she’d snuck out of Nazi Germany a year earlier. At the time, she’d been skeptical of her orders to rescue him at all cost, but as she’d gotten to know him, she’d come to share his vision. Not the US government’s desire for an army of super soldiers that has always sounded frighteningly similar to the Nazi’s desire for a master race. No, Peggy had shared Erskine’s desire for a few select people, who embodied the best that humanity had to offer, being enhanced through the serum. Allowing them to take their rightful place as the leaders of men, and hopefully save them all.

But Erskine had died, and they sent what was his legacy and great hope off on a bonds sale tour for the USO. They gave Steve Rogers a ridiculous uniform, a useless shield, and the silly stage name of Captain America. Peggy had assumed it couldn’t have gotten worse than that, but then Rogers had defected when on tour in Italy. At first, it had been reported that he’d gone AWOL to rescue a friend in a unit caught behind enemy lines.

If only. If only, that had been true and he’d had been killed in that valiant effort. It would have been better for them all. But, Steve Rogers hadn’t rescued anyone. He’d turned traitor.

Joining the Red Skull, Rogers helped Hydra renew their efforts to create their own army of super soldiers. It was a damn dystopian nightmare, where captured allied troops and personnel—especially woman—were forced into experiments against their will.  A good number of them were “mated” in bizarre marriage rituals meant to give the breeding program the look of something other than sexual slavery.

Hydra had been conducting inhumane eugenics experiments since the beginning of the war, but they had picked up pace since Rogers’ defection. Many allied personnel were opting to kill themselves rather than be raped, or worse, by Hydra soldiers and scientists. Peggy, herself, had been issued an emergency cyanide pill.

The rumors and the intelligence all indicated that Hydra was close to producing an army of men with Rogers’ speed, strength, and stamina. And that to speed things along, they were looking for someone to breed Rogers with. 

No one had said so yet, but the sense of a lost cause was in the air. Peggy didn’t have to be told that they were looking at defeat. Hydra was gaining ground on them scientifically, and on land, every day.

Then, hope came over the wire. Peggy had been on duty when an operative identifying themselves as the Artist provided advanced warning of an attack in a code that she’d once used with Dr. Erskine. With no agent in the field assigned that name, the warning had been heeded, but cautiously. And thank god for that, because the Artist had been right. Their intel had saved more than 10,000 allied troops from being cut-off.

When Peggy had taken the message down, she’d identified herself as Agent 13. Thus beginning her relationship with the Artist. She was one of the few people within range who could translate their messages. And her push to get command to at least look into the intelligence the Artist had initially provided established a connection between them. The Artist soon insisted on relaying messages to her and her alone.

They provided intel as often as they could and their information was always correct, even if it was cautiously applied. Without any idea of just who the Artist was, and their reasons for supplying the valuable information, there was no true trust. All the Artist ever said about themselves was that they’d been in the unique position of being able to serve as a double agent, and had taken the opportunity of their own accord. Not exactly the kind of ground you wanted to risk so many lives on, but it was all they had. The Artist's intel had resulted in the few victories the Allies had recently been able to muster. 

Because of her connection to the Artist, when Peggy’s unit had been ordered to evacuate there had been a major fight between Phillips and the higher-ups. She’s been ordered to stay in range of the Artists messages. Philips wanted her moved to safety with everyone else, but he’d been overruled.

Before he’d been forced to leave her with a small band of soldiers for protection, under orders to hide in the woods while relaying any messages from the Artist that came through, Philips had uncharacteristically pulled Peggy into a tight hug. The horror of what could happen to her was left unspoken between them.

Peggy and her small unit evaded capture for nearly a month. To her dismay, Peggy had been taken alive. A state she planned to be out of soon, as she had no intention of being handed off to be raped by some Hydra buffoon.

Lined up with the other captured woman—other “brides”—for the Hydra soldiers to select from, Peggy was planning on how best to take herself, and as many guards as possible, out as her last act. But a figure walked through the door and made her lose track of what she was doing. 

It was Rogers. In the flesh. Tall. Strong. Traitorous.

Never in her life had Peggy wanted to hurt someone so much. She wanted to bite, spit, and claw at him for destroying all the hope that he was supposed to have symbolized. Rogers must have sensed her murderous gaze on him because he turned from the soldiers he was speaking with and looked directly at her. His pupils dilated at the sight of her.

She’d been so focused on Rogers, that Peggy hadn’t noticed Hydra soldiers selecting their mates. When a vicelike grip took a hold of her arm, she nearly took a swing on pure impulse, when Rogers stopped her short again by stepping towards her and saying, “No. That one is mine.”

 


	2. Honeymoon

Peggy knew she’d been drugged almost right away. What they’d given her and how she didn’t know, but she felt the fog envelop her like a cloud. Things seemed distant, as if they weren’t happening to her, but rather like she was watching herself in a movie. There’d been a gynecological exam to make sure she could bear children, and to make sure she didn’t have anything like a cap in place to prevent pregnancy. She was then stripped and washed with rose water. Her hair was styled with a hot iron, so it curled about her face. They’d put make-up on her. There was lingerie.

If her limbs hadn’t been reduced to Jello, she would have fought back. As it was, all she could do was passively tolerate the preparations for her “wedding night.” She needed to save her strength and what little focus she had left for Rogers.

At some point, a paper was shoved in Peggy’s face. It was a marriage certificate with her name, rank and serial number written on it. It was all the information they had on her. Rogers’ name was on it too. She was told it was legally binding. Before she could spit back that it certainly was not, she felt something cold being locked around her ankle. It looked like a silver bracelet with two rubies adorning it. The orderly told her it was a tracking device. He said that if she didn’t want to get one hell of a shock, she either had to keep within the range of the camp or within 500 feet of her husband.

And with that, Peggy was escorted to Rogers’ quarters.

“You can go,” he told the orderly, rising from the small sofa he’d been seated on as they entered. Peggy may have been a bit spacy, but she noticed he was shirtless and shoeless. He was impressive as hell and Peggy hated every traitorous muscle on his body that he didn’t deserve. She wanted, and planned to, beat his perfection to a pulp. 

“But, sir, I’m supposed to tie her to….”

“You can go,” Rogers repeated more firmly. The man obeyed without another word.

As soon as the door shut behind him, Peggy picked up the nearest dangerous object she could find—a stapler that had been sitting on the desk by the door—and tried to smash Rogers in the head with it. She was so loose-limbed from whatever they’d drugged her with though, her movements with slow and stilted.

Rogers stepped back from her with ease and made no effort to try to restrain her. His face was blurry. In fact, everything in Peggy’s field of vision was fuzzy. Whatever they’d given her had dulled her senses. She thought Rogers’ mouth was moving, but she heard no sound come out.

Peggy tried again. This time grabbing a vase, she smashed it over his shoulder. It shattered, not because of the force she’d used, but because Rogers was built like a God damn brick house.

Rogers remained where he was after the blow. He made some kind of gesture with his arm that Peggy could barely see, let alone understand.  She knew she was fading fast. Thinking this might be her last shot, Peggy grabbed a lamp, but when she stepped forward to hit him with it, she lost her balance and fell into Rogers.

The room was spinning and her head was reeling. She knew she should be fighting—clawing, screaming, raging. But instead, she found herself as pliant as a doll, as she felt Rogers lift her into his arms.

###

Peggy woke to the sound of a door. Or maybe it was the weight and warmth that was suddenly crushing her. She realized immediately that she was in a bed. It was dark. The sheets were drawn up around her. And Rogers was on tops of her, rocking against her body.

Peggy screamed and started thrashing about.

“Sorry, sir,” she heard a voice say from somewhere in the room.

“Out!” Roger bellowed over Peggy’s head. “Out.”

As soon as Peggy heard the door shut and retreating footsteps, Rogers stilled. It was then that Peggy realized that her knees were against each other, and to the side of his body.  

He moved off her, but stayed somewhat close. “Being watched,” he whispered to her.

Peggy nodded, but truly didn’t comprehend what that could mean. Mainly, she was just glad that he hadn’t been raping her. Wanting to keep it that way, she’d tried to sit up and escape the bed.

“Stay,” he said in his husky, low voice, as he sat up and got out of the bed himself. His form retreated into the shadows of the darkened room. Whatever they’d given her was strong enough to have Peggy asleep again within seconds, despite her confusion, fear, and great relief that he’d not violated her.

###

Waking the next morning, Peggy felt like she’d had the worst bender of her life the night before. Rogers was barely a consideration as she had to put her head between her legs to keep the room from spinning. She felt more than saw him moving behind her, getting dressed she could only presume.

“Someone will come to take you to class.”

“Class?” Peggy questioned, looking up to find Rogers standing in front of her. Peggy had never seen a picture of him pre-serum for a comparison, but he was an imposing figure to be sure. Everything about him spoke of strength and youth. Between his chiseled jaw and his clear blue eyes with their long and lush lashes, he truly was physical perfection. Peggy hated that Erskine’s legacy had been wasted on him.

“To teach you how to behave as a proper wife, and to inform you of all the wonders that Hydra will bring into your life now that you are a citizen.”

If Peggy hadn’t felt like throwing up before, that had done it. She leaning forward and puked all over Rogers’ feet. It made her feel better two-fold.

###

Peggy wasn’t taken to the class with the women she’d been lined up with the night before. As Rogers’ bride, she was considered special in some way. So, she was shown into to a classroom full of what she gathered were Hydra sympathizers being officially brought into the fold. Peggy wished she could have paid better attention to the propaganda that was being thrown at her, in case it was useful in some way later, but she pretty much spent the entire morning trying not to cry.

It was only when she’d been brought in and told to sit that she realized the necklace with her family crest on it had been taken from her sometime the night before. It was her last gift from Michael. Losing it felt like more of a violation than anything else that had been done to her.

After they broke for lunch and she ate, Peggy was able to force her feelings down and pay attention to what was being said when the class resumed. She had to sit through a combination of movies and lectures about childbearing and rearing, and the honor a woman had in bringing Hydra progeny into the world. She also learned that she had three months to fall pregnant. They didn’t fill in the blanks of what would happen if she didn’t, but she could venture a guess. 

Peggy made a point of paying attention to the whispers of her classmates as well. She was clearly a point of jealousy. Some of the women seemed to have hoped that Rogers would have selected one of them to be his consort. Peggy too found it odd that Rogers would choose an outsider, let alone her so specifically. But another more interesting rumor caught her full attention. 

It seemed, a good number of her classmates were shocked that Rogers had taken a bride at all. There was apparently a good deal of talk that Rogers’ relationship with that friend he’d gone AWOL to save was much more than comradery. Peggy logged that bit of gossip away for future use.   

When Peggy was finally escorted back to Rogers’ room in the early evening, she was relieved to find him absent. What was there though was a dinner the likes of which Peggy hadn’t seen in a very long time. The dinner table was covered in steak, fresh vegetables, and dishes covered in cheese. There was also a whole and beautiful chocolate cake that had Peggy’s mouth watering. 

So, Peggy sat down and did the prudent thing: she ate. Rogers came in just when she was finished the piece of filet minion that was clearly meant to be his. He looked from her to table, which Peggy had decimated, with a dark expression. She looked up at him defiantly, wiping at her mouth delicately with a napkin.

He walked over to her, stood very close, and mouthed, “drugged.”

She looked down at the empty plates then back up at him.

He nodded. Then pointed up at the ceiling. “Bugged.”

It was Peggy’s turn to nod in acknowledgment. Swallowing hard, she had to admit she did feel her senses beginning to dull. The onset of the fog that had enveloped her last night was definitely starting.

“Play along,” He uttered quietly, before saying out loud, “on the bed and take off your clothing.”

When Rogers gestured for her to move over to it Peggy did, but she remained standing. Rogers sat down on the edge, then looked up at her for a long moment before he started to bounce. Up and down, and then up and down he went, making the bed creak and moan under his weight.

Peggy nearly brust out laughing at the sight of him. Hydra’s pride and joy faking it in such a comical way. It wasn’t so funny anymore though when Rogers gestured that she needed to join in. He pointed at the ceiling, reminding her that they were being listened to, even as he had yet to tell her by whom.

Peggy sobered and gave her best impression of someone being raped, screaming and moaning and begging him to stop. She felt a lot of guilt over the fact that all of the women she’d been lined up with the previous evening probably weren’t play acting their violation.

Rogers gestured for her to stop when he seemed to think it had gone on long enough. Feeling the full effect of the drugs, Peggy found herself laying down on the bed after they’d put on their show. She was queasy again. Rogers moved closer to her, mouthing something, but the only thing she could make out was “Don’t eat…away…..tomorrow.”

Peggy was out cold.

###

The next morning when Peggy woke, Rogers was gone. Two ration bars were laid out for her on the bed. Rogers must have left them so she’d have something to eat that wasn’t drugged. She scarfed them down. They were bland as rice, but they were filling and they seemed to help with the nausea of her drug hang-over.

The guards came for her at about the same time as they had the day before and took her back to the classroom. Peggy sat through the morning of propaganda, wondering just who would be listening in on Rogers. Hydra? Why would his own be monitoring him so closely? Because of the rumors she’d heard yesterday? Is that why she’d been spared from being raped? Because Rogers preferred the company of men? Then why did he so purposely select her as a bride? The more Peggy turned everything in her head, the more questions she was left with.

She was wondering how she was going to avoid eating what could be drug-laced food at lunch when Rogers showed up just as they were about to go on break. He pulled her from the classroom, leading her outside by her wrist to his waiting motorbike.   

“Climb on and put your arms around me,” he ordered.

Peggy did as she was told, even as she was as mystified as the Hydra soldiers watching them were. They left the camp and drove off into the woods. It was cold. The wind was cutting and Peggy found herself having to bury her face in Rogers’ warm back to keep her nose from freezing. She hated having to touch him. Her skin crawled, but there was no help for it.

They must have ridden 40 minutes before Rogers’ finally pulled over on a dirt road deep in the forest. He dismounted and took a bag off the bike. Peggy was just able to make out transmission equipment inside it.

“Please just stay here for a few minutes, and I promise I’ll explain everything,” he told her before walking off the road towards a steep gully in the woods. Reaching the bottom, Rogers placed the bag on a tree stump at the center of a clearing. He bent over it, his back to Peggy.

Done with just about all of this, Peggy started doing the calculations in her head. Rogers was maybe 70 or 80 meters from her. The embankment he’d walked down was at least a 40-degree angle. His motorbike had to weigh over 300 kilos. Even with his enhancements, that was a lot of force and weight.

Without another thought, she pulled the tool bag off Rogers’ bike and set it aside. Then, she kicked up the stand and pushed the bike over the embankment right onto Rogers. She watched with some pleasure as it rolled right onto him, crushing him to the ground.  

But Peggy knew that she didn’t have time to truly relish in his predicament.  She bent down to start cutting the tracker off her ankle with a pair of pliers. Then she sensed motion in the clearing.  She looked up to see Rogers walking back up the embankment towards her with barely a scratch on him.  

Looking at her sheepishly, he said, “I’m sorry, but even that’s not enough to really hurt me.”

“Bloody fucking hell!” 


	3. Shock

Peggy chucked the pliers she was holding at Rogers, but they bounced off him like a damn rubber ball. Grabbing the tool bag, she pulled out a bolt tightener, a wrench and a screw driver. She threw all of those at Rogers too. She had good aim and they all hit him, but they didn’t hurt or slow him down.

“Please stop,” Rogers said, walking forward with his arms up and his palms spread.

Peggy threw the hammer next. “Ha!” She cried as it smacked Rogers squarely in the nose, snapping his head back at what looked like a painful angle. Anyone else sustaining a blow like that would have been knocked unconscious or worse. Rogers just shock it off, but his tone turned from appeasing to annoyed for the first time, “stop that!”

Peggy threw every last tool in the bag at him, but he still made his way up the hill toward her, ducking and blocking the heavy objects with ease. When he was nearly upon her, she played her last card. She threw the empty bag in his face to block his vision, then bend down to grab a big branch laying by her feet. She got damn lucky. When she swung it, some of the twigs on the end got Rogers right in the eye. Crying out in pain, he stumbled backwards down the slope, grabbing his face.

Peggy only registered the blood between his fingers briefly before she turned and ran. She made straight on the road at first to put some quick distance between them, before darting off of it into the woods. Despite all the rumors of Rogers’ prowess on the battlefield, the truth was the Allies had no idea what his full capabilities were. His speed and strength had stupidly been left untested after his transformation thanks to the self-aggrandizing senator who sent him off on that bonds tour.

Peggy didn’t know what his healing time would be, and what condition he’d be in when he pursued her, but she knew he’d come. She had to put some distance between her and Rogers, but not enough to set off the tracker. The tree tops were going to be her best option, and she’d just begun to scope them out when a sharp, shooting pain brought her down.

###

She woke up slowly. The first thing she registered was the sky, both somehow clear and full of fiery sunset at once. No, that wasn’t right. It was the blue of Rogers’ one eye and the slightly swollen one she had hit. The skin around it was purple and she’d clearly broken blood vessels in his pupil. 

She was on her back. He was sitting beside her, looking down.

“You ran outside of your tracker range. It's shorter than they told you,” he said neutrally.

“Crikey O’Riley,” She moaned, then closed her eyes again and hoped somehow to wake from this nightmare.

“You’re as determined as I remember you being.”

She was up on her elbows, eyes wide in an instant. “You and I have never met before.”

“Yes, we have,” Rogers stated emphatically.

“I would remember your traitorous-”

Rogers held up Peggy’s necklace. It spun in his hands. The sun glistened off the gold. “You dropped this,” he stated flatly, “and I returned it to you.”

Peggy felt her mouth fall open and her memory turned backwards. She had lost the necklace at the World Exposition in New York. She’d been undercover at the time, working to unearth a plot to assassinate Dr. Erskine. She’d had to do a quick costume change from some stupidly sexy tuxedo number for Howard’s showcase to clothing that would allow her to mix with the crowd. The chain must have broken in her mad fury to get redressed. When Peggy had realized, she’d ran back to the exam room she’d used to change in. They’d been signing up men at the Expo, and Peggy could only hope that none of them had noticed the necklace lying about and taken it.  

She’d searched the room from top to bottom—twice—to no avail. Finally, in desperation, she’d tried the lost and found. Peggy was describing the necklace to the indifferent attendant when a man behind her stepped forward saying he’d found it. He’d held the necklace up and Peggy was so blinded by it, she’d barely noticed him at first. Something that was odd for her both by training and disposition. When she did look, she noticed that the man was small in scale and so thin it was concerning. But he was neatly dressed, his hair was combed properly, and he had beautiful, bright blue eyes.

Peggy had very seldom been speechless in her life, but she’d been so overwhelmed by getting the necklace back she’d forgotten her tongue and couldn’t form the words to thank the man. He was turning to leave when Peggy stepped forward to stop him, but a set of approaching couples made her pause. The man had seemed to know them, even as Peggy could tell instantly the conversation was not friendly. They were jeering at him. When one of the coupled-off men had made a disparaging remark about how he was alone, Peggy stepped up to the small man and slide her arm through his.  

“Friends of yours, darling,” she’d purred. Peggy knew she was attractive in the same way she knew she was intelligent. And while she hated that her looks were considered more valuable than her brain as a woman, she had no problem using them to her advantage when and where it was called for.

She leaned forward and kissed the small man on the cheek, making sure to leave a red lip print behind. The two couples were no less stunted than the small man had been. He stuttered and stammered for a moment, but didn’t shake off her touch.

“We were just headed to the dance floor, weren’t we, darling? Did you all care to join us?”

“Since when do you dance?” One of the women asked speaking to the small man, but still starring at Peggy dumbly, almost as if she couldn’t believe she was there.

“Since I came along,” Peggy replied curtly, dropped the cooing facade for a moment, before turning it back on again to meet the small man’s clear, blue eyes. “Shall we, my love?”

He looked at her dead on, searching for something. Clearly trusting what he saw, he’d nodded. As the two other couples followed close behind them, they weren’t able to chat until they moved to the dance floor, where the noise from the crowd gave them a little privacy.

“You didn’t need to do that,” the small man began with a firm tone, then stuttered awkwardly, “I mean, I’m grateful…..and I…but you didn’t have to.”

“You didn’t have to be honest and return my necklace,” Peggy said emphatically, stepping back from him slightly when his foot hit her toes.

“Sorry.”

She waved off the misstep. “I’m happy to return a kindness. I hope those aren’t friends.” Peggy had said, eyeing the two couples who were still nearby with open disdain.  

“No.”

“Good. You deserve better than that.”

“Thank you,” the man said, swallowing thickly. He’d stepped on Peggy’s foot again.  

“Sorry. Sorry! See, I’ve not….I’ve never really danced with a dame…a lady…before and I…...”

“Oh,” Peggy exclaimed truly shocked, then had offered without thinking, “I can take the lead.”

Peggy thought truly well of the man that he had seemed grateful and not emasculated by the suggestion. She’d been ready to tell him how to count off steps, but once she’d moved her feet to bank his, they’d fallen into an easy and natural rhythm. He was more than content to follow the unspoken guidance of her body, and had a surprising ability to read it. He was short for a man, but Peggy had found that she liked that his height made their eyes level. And that he was looking at her so directly. The look of bewildered joy on his face as he managed the dance without hitting her feet was frankly adorable.  

“Is it always this easy, or did I stumble on the right partner?” He asked.

“I think the latter. Even with a trained dancer, it can take a while to fall in together.”

The man had beamed at her. His face was so sincere and honest that Peggy had felt compelled to tell him, “I’m so grateful to you for going out of you way to return the necklace. Not everyone would be honest enough to have made the effort. It is valuable, but what it means to me sentimentally….thank you.”

“I just did the right thing is all. It’s not a big deal. You being kind enough to make those jerks think that you and I….well that…was…” He turned the most endearing shade of pink.

Peggy wanted to spare him the embarrassment. Truthfully, she wanted to get his name and see if she could perhaps make arrangements to see him again while she was still in New York. But movement over his shoulder had caught her attention. It was Howard, stumbling down the steps of his show’s platform and making some kind of a ruckus. Part of Peggy’s job was babysitting the talented, but idiotic, engineer and she knew from her history with Howard that there was about to be an incident.

The man looked over his shoulder, following Peggy’s line of sight.  “I don’t want to keep you from….” He sentence died off when there was an explosion behind Howard that sent people running out of the expo hall. Peggy politely, and regretfully, excused herself to deal with the mad scientist. By the time she’d literally put out a fire, the man wasn’t among the remaining throngs of people who’d stuck around to watch the show. The sense of a lost connection had pained her at the time, but she’d buried it down as she had done with so many things since the war started.

Looking at Rogers’ larger, stronger features now, she did see the distorted image of the kind man who’d returned her necklace that night. As a rule, Peggy considered herself to be a pretty good judge of character. She had to be in her line of work. So, either her intuition had been wrong or Erskine’s serum twisted a good man beyond recognition.

Peggy surprised herself by spitting in Rogers' face in anger over either possibility.

He wiped the saliva from his cheek without expression. He tone was almost bland, when he said, “I was planning to release you, but it’s nearly night now and you wouldn’t be able to make it pass the patrols in the darkness. We’ll have to go back to camp and try this again.” Standing, he tucked her necklace into a pocket, “I’ll return it to you, once I let you go. They’ll only take it from you now if they find it on you.”

###

The ride back to the Hydra base had been silent and cold. Peggy wondered how Rogers was going to explain their prolonged absence, before realizing her appearance was its own answer. With half the leaves of the forest stuck in her hair and her dirty back, Peggy looked thoroughly ravaged.

As she followed Rogers back to his room, she wondered at his motivations. Had he selected her as a bride with the intention of releasing her because she’d paid him a kindness in dancing with him when he’d still been small? Just who was listening in on him in his private quarters and why? And what had he been doing with that transponder in the woods? Even if they had to have the entire conversation with pencil and paper, Peggy was determined to get answers.

“I see that you’ve chosen quite well for yourself,” a voice said the second Rogers pushed his door open. It was thick with a German accent. Peggy’s eyes widen at sight of the Red Skull. He moved towards her, looking her over with a critical eye.  “Highly intelligent, extremely competent and quite attractive. Yes, you’ve chosen well, Steven. I hope to hear of an impedingly blessing soon. In fact, I am here to make sure there isn’t just one, but three or four.”


	4. Dancing Monkey

“Wife, get my foot bath.”

It took Peggy a second to realize that Rogers was talking to her, and a second more to realize what he was talking about. It had been covered extensively during her classes—how women were supposed to bath their husband’s feet as a sign of care and submission.  Rogers had smartly never asked her to do so for him, but she knew where the supplies for it were kept. Peggy went to retrieve them from the bathroom, feeling the Red Skull’s eyes bearing into her back.

When she returned with the filled basin and sponge, the two men had settled into chairs. she had, thankfully, paid enough attention to the instructions to know what to do. She kneeled down in front of Rogers, her back to Johann Schmidt and began to unlace Rogers’ boots. The subject had turned from her by then.

The Skull and his protégé were talking troop movement and their upcoming campaigns. They chatted for nearly an hour as freely as if Peggy hadn’t been in the room. She wasn’t sure if that was confidence or arrogance on their part. But she carefully logged away every detail of the strategy and plans they were discussing while she scrubbed at Rogers' feet well past the point that the water they were soaking in turned cold.

Finally, the Skull stood to leave. “Oh, I nearly forgot. Come here my dear,” he said, pulling a vile and a syringe out of his jacket pocket and gesturing to Peggy.   

“Will that hurt an existing fetus?” Rogers asked. “There’s a very good chance she’s already with child. I’ve been exercising my husbandly rights as frequently as possible.”

Sighing, the Red Skull acknowledge that it could. “It is moments like these that I wish we did not have to put such emphasis on institutions like marriage. It would be more practical for you to take multiple mates. But if we are going to build our better world, you of all people will have to set a good public example.” Handing the needle and glass bottle to Rogers, the Skull added, “but privately is a different matter. If she is with child, have it removed. Then get this into her system. If you can only use one woman to produce, we’ll need her to produce in mass.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And ready her and yourself for a trip to Berlin. I’ll be marrying myself.”

“Congratulations, my lord. Madame Masque?”

“Yes. I’d like to make the wedding a very special occasion. This drug should not just increase the number of fetuses, but will also speed up gestation. Your wife should be halfway through term by my wedding two months from now. The visual of her protruding stomach and my happy affair will further increase our morale.”

“It will be a wonderful occasion.” Rogers stood at salute. “Hail, Hydra.”

“Hail Hydra.”

###

Since the Red Skull’s arrival, Peggy found herself with a whole new schedule. For all intents and purposes, they'd put her on a press tour. She no longer went to classes. Instead, an attendant arrived each morning to dress her. Everything she wore was carefully selected for the occasion. It was all showy and expensive. And she was given specific instructions on how to wear her hair and do her make-up.

Often times, Peggy went through multiple costume changes throughout the day, as she wore sundresses for brunches and gowns for evening cocktail receptions. She was transported alone, sans the driver, in a luxury car. It was showy and not just because of its plush seats. The gas such trips took was simply something that the Allies couldn't have spared.

Rogers generally arrived separately for most of the staged events so photos could be taken, but he tended not to linger. She’d not had a real moment alone with her “husband” since the Red Skull had appeared at the base. Most nights, he didn’t return to their room at all. When he did, it was clearly for show. They’d put on another performance of fake sex for whatever ears were listening in on them, then Rogers would depart again as quickly as he'd arrived.

He looked well. The serum saw to that, but Peggy got the sense that he was burning the candle on both ends. Between the real work he was doing for Hydra and the social appearances he had to make, he was running on little to no sleep.

The routine picked up even more after the “happy” news of Peggy’s pregnancy was announced. Rogers went from standing alongside her in the staged photos, to standing behind her. His hand splayed possessively across her stomach.

Peggy had no idea how Rogers had managed it, but he had the Red Skull convinced she’d been pregnant, had an abortion, was give his injections, and was now gestating triples for Hydra’s high command. Just what they were going to do when she should start showing and wasn't, Peggy had no idea. She hadn’t had the chance to ask Rogers about it, or any of the other questions she was desperate to pepper him with. His few nightly visits were too short and the times she saw him otherwise were too public.  

In camp, Peggy was hearing whispers of some super weapon, something called Valkyrie. She couldn’t gather much intel on it, but she got the sense that whatever that weapon was, it was going to decide things one way or another. The idea of that Hydra could, and may well be, winning the war sat in her stomach like a stone.

After the announcement of yet another major Allied evacuation, Peggy was forced to a dinner and dancing affair. They’d dressed her a stunning red gown with reams of fabric that would have been used for at least six dresses on her side of the war effort. She was draped in stolen rubies-a necklace, rings, and even a tiara.

She and Rogers were meant to glide together across the dancehall floor that evening, like a fairy tale couple to celebrate her “conception.” It was the longest amount of time she’d spend with her “husband” in the past few weeks. She was hoping to have a chance to finally chat with him, but the other couples on the floor were too close for that to be prudent.

Peggy was lost in her own headspace, seething that she still had no way to demand answers and no recent opportunity to escape. So it took her a moment to realize that when the music started, Rogers had shifted his feet inside her own, silently indicating that she should take the lead. Surprised, Peggy looked up to meet the deep, penetrating gaze of his blue eyes. She started moving and he followed suit,  never looking away from her face throughout the dance.

If anyone noticed Hydra’s golden goose being lead around the dance floor by his conscripted Allied-forces wife, nothing was said.

###

Two days later, Peggy was being ushered into her car again for another social occasion, a brunch for which she’d been put into a cupcake dress with so much tulle it practically stood up horizontally, when Rogers approached her seemingly out of nowhere.

“Some privacy with my wife.” He snapped at the driver.

When the driver had disappeared, Rogers pushed Peggy into the backseat, flat on her back. He motioned for her to put her legs up as if they were having intercourse.

“I only have a few moments,” he told her, actually rucking up her skirt, which was a shock to Peggy since Rogers never touched her more than he had too. “About ten miles out, the car is going to be intercepted. Give the armed men who take you hostage the password: compass. They’ll help you escape back to allied territory.”

She felt Rogers fussing with something inside her skirts. It took her a moment to realize he was pinning something in the endless masses of it. “Please get this to the name marked inside. It’s important.”

Peggy wanted to ask him what it was, why he was doing this-hell, what side he was on-but the Skull appeared behind him.

“Bedding the woman again?” He said with a laugh.

“Yes,” Rogers replied sliding off Peggy.  He met her eye for a quick, but seemingly, endless moment before turning to the Skull and saying, “It’s the damn serum. Too much testosterone always pumping.”

Peggy righted herself as both men walked away laughing, making sure whatever was in her skirt was hidden well and good. 

###

 When Peggy felt like the driver was sufficiently focused on the road, she quietly pulled the envelope from her underskirts. Keeping it low and partly hidden in the fabric of her dress, while also keeping an eye on the driver, Peggy opened it. 

The inside letter was in code-a code Peggy was all too familiar with. Even without the luxury of a translation sheet, she recognized who it was from and addressed to: Agent 13 from the Artist.

###

When the ambush came and Peggy was pulled from the car, she held her hands in the air.

“Compass.” She said to the man with the gun pointed at her. He lowered it instantly. From the look on his face, he clearly recognized her.  

Laying the weapon against his shoulder as he stared her down, Peggy couldn’t help but stare right back. The man’s left arm was made entirely of metal.


	5. Allies

They were the 107th, or rather what was left of them. Cut off from command since Rogers had gone AWOL, they were haggard, dirty, frayed—and Peggy adored them. After it became clear that she was the ranking officer amongst them, they immediately and graciously deferred to her. They didn’t call her ma’am, they called her sir.  

Even before it was known that she’d been the intelligence agent Rogers had been pumping information to as the Artist.

The only time the men had shown any signs of getting their hackles up with her was when Rogers' intentions came into question. They’d not been disrespectful in the slightest, but it was very clear that they idolized him.

“He’s not a traitor.” The large man in bowler cap Peggy would come to know as DumDum had said vehemently when she informed them of Rogers current status with command.

“I’m gathering,” Peggy said as she clutched Michael’s necklace. When Rogers had pinned the envelope to her voluminous underskirts, he’d also attached her treasured gift to the tulle as well. The only thing that had prevented Peggy from crying in relief at the sight of it had been the yet known soldiers blinking back at her when she’d found it in the mass of fabric.

It was still possible, of course, that Rogers was indeed a traitor. That he had his own nefarious end game and that Erskine’s serum had truly distorted a good man. But Peggy knew in her heart of hearts that wasn’t the case any longer.

Peggy’s own intuition was enough for her, but she also trusted Erskine’s judgment in that he’d selected the best candidate for the role, despite appearances. And she trusted these men, who admired and respected Rogers. During the time he’d gone AWOL, Rogers had freed the group now calling themselves the Howling Commandos from Hydra’s clutches. Cut off from command and trapped behind enemy lines, Rogers had led them briefly in guerilla warfare, before willingly been taken captive to make his devils bargain.

The Commandos had remained in field, relaying Rogers messages as the Artist back to command—back to her as Agent 13. They’d allowed their family and friends to believe they were KIA rather than risk Rogers’ cover.

“It’s nothing compared to what the Captain has sacrificed,” Peggy’s fellow Brit Falsworth had noted.

Peggy had nodded in agreement. She’d opened her mouth to add more of her own insights after seeing Rogers’ interactions with Johann Schmidt personally, but she her observations died on her tongue as a cool stare bore into her back.

It was Sgt. Barnes, as always tracking her every move with the eye of a snipper and the judgment of a gossip.

###

Peggy wasn’t sure what to make of Barnes. He hardly ever spoke, and he watched her like a damn hawk. She felt like he was assessing her, but not in the way she was used to her male compatriots judging her. He wasn’t either deciding if she was pretty enough to take to bed or just tolerable enough to be allowed to fetch his coffee. Barnes just kept a close, careful eye on her for some purpose that Peggy wasn’t privy too.

She raked her brain to try and recall if she’d seen Barnes during her encounter with Rogers at the World’s Fair. Peggy seldom forgot a face and was certain he’d not been there the evening that she and Rogers had danced. Yet, she still had the sensation that he knew her, and for some reason felt he had the right to evaluate her. It bothered her greatly that she was concerned that whatever he was looking for, he would find her lacking.

Stand-offish as he may be, Peggy certainly couldn’t fault Barnes with anything as a soldier. He followed every order she gave. Efficient and effective, he was also brave as hell.   

Tortured and experimented on by Hydra for nearly a month, Barnes had lost his arm to them, but not his loyalty or belief in the cause. The Howling Commandos had found him nearly dead at a base they were raiding, and that was where Rogers had made his supposed defection. Barnes had gotten whatever non-physical and verbal signal that Rogers had relayed indicating that it was all a rouse.

Peggy might have kept with the 107th course of action: staying close enough to Rogers to relay messages, but far enough away to not be caught, but for the new letter the Captain had hidden under her skirts.

Hydra had a long-range carrier being prepared to drop a hydrogen bomb on the eastern seaboard of the United States. As Rogers had concluded in his note to Agent 13—to her-“Must be stopped at all cost. The war is over if it drops.”

###

If ever the men were going to question her, it would have been when she told then they were disbanding. They’d be breaking off into small groups. Each carrying a letter coded into a new cipher that Peggy knew the Allies should be able to easily translate, unlike the one she’d been using with Rogers.

Peggy hoped, prayed, that one of their groups would be able to make it past Hydra’s very fortified lines. Bad weather was coming in on top of everything else. It was freezing, and Peggy could smell snow in the air.

“For your safety, I can’t and won’t tell you the contents of these letters,” Peggy told the men as they gathered round her, “but know this, lives…countless lives…depend on one of our groups making it through. Travel by the cover of darkness when you can. Know that the front line is constantly moving and further back into Allied territory. Be safe. Be smart. And remember the importance of your efforts. I don’t say this lightly, but the entire war effort depends on at least one of us getting this information to command. I wish you all luck and hope to see you on the other side.”

Peggy was ready to dismiss them to make their final preparations for departure when Barnes raised his metal arm. She granted him leave to speak.

“Respectfully, sir, I think I should be a part of your team.”

Peggy had made him a leader of his own squad and saw no reason to make a change. He was more than capable of holding his own and she was about to tell him so, when her eyes fluttered to a move that DumDum made to her left. Something in his expression made her think agreeing to Barnes request was prudent.

So, when the time came, Peggy, DumDum, Barnes, and Pinky left together. They were one of four small groups of people who may well be the Allies last hope.

###

“He won’t talk about it,” DumDum said, settling down next to Peggy. They’d been traveling for just over a week, and it was Peggy’s turn on watch. Dugan was supposed to relieve her in a few hours, but instead, he’d seemed to have waited for the others to fall asleep before stalking over to chat. He produced a bottle with less than two fingers of whiskey splashing about in it. Peggy knew it was the last of it.

“Not uncommon for a POW,” she noted in a neutral tone.

“I’m not referring to what Hydra did to him.”

Peggy took a pull on the bottle, probably more than her share of what was left.

“Rogers supposed defection?”

Dugan nodded.

“The tarnish to his image? Or concern for his friend’s mental well-being?”

“Both, I’d imagine. All of its heavy and it weighs on him.”

Peggy nodded. “Childhood friends, I believe. It’s why Rogers went AWOL to look from him in the first place. At least, that’s what I was told.”

“Brothers,” DumDum said. The word was an affirmation, an oath.

Peggy didn’t hint to Dugan that the whispers assumed it was much more than a familial relationship between the two. Sight unseen and with Barnes a silent but surveying presence around her, Peggy could hardly inform an opinion of her own.

“Ya know, I don’t need to know what it is we are transporting to understand what’s on the line here. I knew it the second Steve accepted the Schmidt 's offer that it was the difference between us winning and losing this thing.”

“I hear a ‘but’ coming.”

“But he’s one man. Granted a special one, and I’m not talking about the enhancements. But he’s not an island. Can’t do it alone, although I suspect he’ll try to.”

Peggy suspected that too.

“Bucky’s had his six since they were kids, and we’ve got him to, but,” his voice caught with emotion, “I’m glad you’re here, Agent Carter.”

Peggy was so flushed by the compliment, it took her a moment to realize that DumDum wasn’t looking at her. She followed his line of sight to Barnes, who should have been asleep. Peggy could see the gleam in his eyes as he blinked. His gaze ever watching, ever accessing. 

###

The snow started early the next morning. It was driving, damp and heavy. As vital as their mission was, they couldn’t complete it if they were dead. Shelter quickly became the most pressing concern. Their best hope was to find a cave that they could huddle in, but the white out would make finding one a near impossible task.

Visibility was so bad that Peggy head the guns before she could make out who was firing. It all happened very quickly once the Hydra opts team became visible. Shots were fired and there was screaming in German and English.

She was pushed to the ground with weight and force that knocked the air out of her lungs. Someone had to drag the body crushing hers off of her before she got sight of what happened. DumDum and Pinky were nowhere in sight. Not that Peggy could see more than a few feet in front of her.

But she had plain view of Rogers, who was laying just to her left. Barnes was pressing his hands into his side, trying to stop the bleeding. She didn’t need to be told that he’d taken the bullet intended for her.  


End file.
